Author: Triane

Disclaimer: Not. Mine. Except Iona. Everything else belongs to someone else. Even more so now, that we're into movie territory - I've done what I could to gloss over using the actual dialogue, but if you recognize dialogue or action, its because it's. Not. Mine.

Summary: The day Iona and Arthur have been waiting for arrives.

The bustle of the table room was exactly what Dagonet and Iona needed, and they found their spirits lifting as the usual banter swirled around them. There was a slight undercurrent of nervous energy that wasn't usually there, but on the whole the men awaited their discharge papers with the appearance of indifference.

Iona made her way around the room to Arthur, stood shoulder to shoulder with the Roman commander, and surveyed the rest of the knights with him. Arthur smiled.

"Is everything all right, Iona?" She shook her head. Oh, if only you knew. Her voice was low.

"The bishop." He frowned and looked down at her, waiting while she chose her words. Finally she twisted her lips in a slight grimace and narrowed her eyes.

"With wine and boys around, monks have no need of the Devil to tempt them." Arthur recoiled slightly, his lips parting in shock.

"Boys?" Iona nodded.

"Which he thought I was. It is one thing to know that such relationships exist, Arthur - it is quite another to be propositioned for one. I don't know how... young... his preferences lie, but I would suggest we keep him away from Galahad. And Bors' family. Especially Gilly."

Arthur nodded, his face set. His reply, however, was lost in the entrance of the bishop's scuttling man servant, whose voice lost some of its grandeur as he noticed the round table.

"Bishop Gnaus... Germanius..." Despite the loss of conviction, the knights stood upon the bishop's entrance, and Iona quickly made her way to her place between Bors and Dagonet.

As Bishop Germanius swept in, he took in the sight of the round table and squared his shoulders slightly, his gaze calculating and his voice condescending as he commented on the distinct lack of knights sitting around the table. Arthur, ever level-headed, answered calmly at the understated criticism and Iona felt a swell of pride at his ability to smooth tense situations. She also noted, in a more foreboding thought, that the bishop seemed well practised at switching his manner, like the master of manipulation she was quickly suspecting he was.

The bishop's attitude quickly morphed to forgiving as he took a goblet of wine from the page, and motioned for the rest of the knights to be served.

"Arthur and his knights have served with courage to maintain the honour of Rome's empire on this last outpost of our glory. Rome is most indebted to you, noble knights. To your final days as servants to the empire." So saying, he raised his goblet in a toast and took a sip of wine. Lancelot, however, noticed his phrasing, his voice weighted and low.

"Day. Not days." Germanius simply waved away his comment and motioned for them to sit, he himself taking as much of a place of honour as he could, with Arthur at his right hand. His gaze moved around the table to rest on each one of them - but slid quickly past Iona. He dropped his voice low, speaking only to Arthur - but from the scattered words they could hear, the knights knew he was asking about their beliefs. Arthur shook his head, his smile towards his men reassuring, and his voice pitched so that all could hear.

"They retain the religion of their forefathers. I have never questioned that." The bishop's mouth set in a thin line, his voice flat.

"Of course, of course." He risked a disapproving look at Iona. "They are pagans, hmmm?" The men, uncomfortable with the insinuation that this somehow made them inferior, shifted in their seats. Only Bors and Iona smiled, wolfishly, and without shame. Germanius looked back to Arthur, again purposely dropping his voice to keep the conversation private - making Iona's lip curl in a slight snarl as she cast a sidelong glance at Dagonet. She spoke low, in English.

"You have been fighting for fifteen years, for so-called honour that he wears like a robe, and he can't even be bothered to talk to you." Dagonet nodded, his blue eyes hooded as they watched Arthur smile, again speaking so everyone could hear his reply to Germanius' question about Pelagius.

Germanius nodded, his jaw working, obviously displeased at both Arthur's answer and his inability to control the conversation. Changing tactics, his voice took on a proud, louder edge.

"Rome awaits your arrival with great anticipation. You are a hero! In Rome, you will live out your days in honour and wealth." He looked around the circle, his voice dropping as he realized that no one placed the same value on the concept as he did. He sighed and continued speaking, but the men's attention was immediately captured by the ornate box that the servant placed on the table beside the bishop. Germanius saw their captivation and stood, his voice low and almost seductive as he spoke of Rome's withdrawl, and as he slowly opened the lid of the box, the knights all rose in anticipation. Out of the corner of her eye, Iona saw Dagonet wipe his hand on his tunic nervously, compulsively, so she briefly took his hand in hers to squeeze it reassuringly. The bishop's voice was softer.

"What will become of Britain is not our concern anymore. I suppose the Saxons will claim it soon."

Seven pairs of eyes immediately snapped to the bishop, then swung to look at Iona who could feel the blood draining from her face. Arthur's voice was flat, hard.

"Saxons." The bishop nodded, observing the sudden tension in the room.

"In the north, a massive Saxon incursion has begun." Iona looked towards Arthur, her intel from three months before now looming over them. Rome already knew. They knew. I didn't have to... She felt Dagonet's hand on her back and leaned into it, her heart racing. From across the table, Lancelot's voice was dangerously low.

"The Saxons only keep what they kill." Gawain glared at the bishop from beneath his lowered brow.

"And they only kill everything." Eyes again swung to Iona, and Dagonet's voice was a rumble in his chest.

"Not everything." Iona took a deep breath. You don't fight alone. You don't fight alone. Galahad, his young face angry, struggled to keep his voice level as he glared at the bishop.

"So you would just leave the land to the Woads? I risked my life for nothing?" Germanius looked at him with an unreadable gaze, then turned the open box around with a flourish so the men could see the neatly rolled scrolls stored within.

"Gentlemen, your discharge papers with safe conduct throughout the Roman Empire. But first, I must have a word with your commander... in private..." Arthur smiled slightly, motioning around the table.

"We have no secrets." Germanius' mouth turned up into slight snarl as he slammed the lid of the box shut, and for a moment the air was charged with a dangerous, murderous energy. Finally Lancelot, his voice mocking, broke the tension.

"Come. Let us leave Roman business... to Romans." He drained his goblet of wine, and with a pointed look at Arthur, strode out the door. One by one the other knights followed suit, Dagonet gently guiding Iona with a hand at her back before clapping a hand on Bors' shoulder.

"Let it go, Bors." Bors scoffed, but followed the couple out. As the doors closed behind them, Iona couldn't help but feel that something was about to go wrong.